


I Am Not As I Was

by theprydonian_archivist



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-18
Updated: 2008-12-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7199330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprydonian_archivist/pseuds/theprydonian_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve a shadow that seems to have detached from my heels.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Not As I Was

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the LJ community, slashtheimage. The prompt: 
> 
> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Prydonian](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Prydonian). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [The Prydonian collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/theprydonian/profile).

“It’s unavoidable, isn’t it?” 

The Doctor immediately jumped back, surprised by the voice. He’d thought he’d been alone. Yet, there the Master was, perched calmly on the chair near the console. After calming down, the Doctor made some frivolous interjection which the Master scoffed quietly at. 

“You saw me just fine, Doctor. You merely didn’t acknowledge me. That seems to be our lifelong problem.” The Master lifted his head, but did not look toward the Doctor. He stared straight ahead. “It’s like Peter Pan.” 

“Second to the right, straight on ‘til morning? Exactly what I was thinking!” The Doctor snapped into action, pressing buttons and pulling levers, talking as he ran around in circles. “There’s this brilliant nebula just east of here and I thought it would . . . be . . . That’s not what you meant, was it?” 

The Master shrugged. “Hardly.” 

The Doctor continued walked around the console, though slower, shuffling his feet and flipping switches. “So what’s unavoidably Peter Pan-ish? Is there a crocodile in the pool again? I asked him quite nicely the last time to please get out.”

“Shadows.” The Master answered over him. “I’ve a shadow that seems to have detached from my heels.” 

“Are we speaking literally or figuratively?” The Doctor received a condescending look from the Master. “What? It’s been known to happen.”

“I am not as I was.”

There was silence for a moment, as the Doctor interpreted that answer. “Are you asking for help? Is it the drums again? We can try—”

“You’re not listening!” The Master stood and hurried over to the Doctor. “I am not as I was. Can you see that?” 

The Master waited for an answer. The Doctor tried the best he could to understand the problem, but only came up with concerns for the Master’s sanity yet again. “We all change,” he whispered, unsure if it was the answer the other Time Lord was looking for. 

“But do you see it?” The Master grabbed his shoulders. 

The Doctor froze. It wasn’t with fear, but confusion. He had no idea what the Master was speaking of, and could only hope that it was some passing thought and not the result of madness. He was seized so easily by the simplest of thoughts lately. The Doctor quickly began considering ways to help him calm down. The Master certainly wasn’t doing it on his own.

“Non sum qualis eram. Do you see it?” The Master shook him. 

“Yes.” 

“Then say it.”

“You’re not as you were.” 

The Master released his hold, and nodded to himself. He slipped back into silence as he looked down at the floor, shuffling his shoes. He lifted his head, revealing a sly smirk. “Say it in Latin.” 

The Doctor rolled his eyes, releasing any worry he’d had. So it was just a game, then? Was the Master that bored? “Are you done now?” he asked, stepping back.

“No,” the Master moved with him. “You don’t really see it. Like I said. It’s unavoidable. I may be mad, bad, and dangerous to know,” He stopped to laugh quietly to himself, “But you still hollow me out whenever you look at me.”

The Doctor shook his head. He’d thought the Master had finished. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t!” That Master threw his arms up in the air dramatically. “Look at me! This isn’t the devilishly handsome visage of Harold Saxon. All you see is a little red planet with little dumb people that run about and think they are above the laws of time and space. All you see is a small, dark-haired child, shunned from the warm embrace of society and left to pick up the scraps of other useless, sniveling, whining children. You see all the good times and the —” Abruptly, the Master stopped.

“At least Peter’s shadow had a heck of a good time. What do I get? ‘Let me fix you, Master. I can help you, Master. It can be like it was again, Master’. Nothing is like it was. I learned that the moment I reawakened. You never used to be so nostalgic. Remember all those good times we had as mortal enemies? You sure saw past our past then. Not now, though. No, thanks to your sappy human-infected hearts, I get replaced by a shadow. I become what I was. I don’t think that’ll ever change, which is unfortunate.” He took another step closer. “So long as you remain back there, we can’t go forward. There is no future for us as long as you keep resurrecting the past. And don’t deny it.”

The Doctor began to speak, but the Master covered his mouth. “You look at me and you want that pathetic friendship back. Newsflash, Doctor: It’s gone, and I don’t want it back. What I do want, though . . .” He let the sentence hang in air for a long while. He removed his hand, slowly dragging his fingers across Doctor’s lips. He hesitated further as the Doctor watched. 

“Pancakes.” The Master nodded. “I want pancakes. We never have any pancakes in this piece of trash you call a ship. Would it kill you to stop at the market every now and then? And the television reception! The agony! Napoleon had better accommodations at Elba, I’d bet.” As he listed his string of complaints, the Master disappeared down the corridor towards the interior of the ship. 

The Doctor wordlessly stared after him. Especially now, he couldn’t tell if the Master had truly . . . wanted to communicate something, or if he’d simply been bored and wanted to talk in circles in order to upset him. He watched the empty corridor for a while, thinking (or hoping) the Master would return with some explanation. He never did. The Doctor suspected he was trying to make pancakes or, better yet, trying to make the TARDIS make pancakes for him. The very thought made him smile. He left the Master to it.


End file.
